The hour passed in tense silence.

  Servius stood by the ship’s airlock, his figure a shadowed silhouette against the faint glow of the lumen strips lining the bulkhead. His green eyes scanned the corridor as survivors moved past, some carrying tools, others murmuring among themselves. The muted buzz of the failing Gellar field hummed in his ears, an omnipresent reminder of the Warp's relentless encroachment.

  Adrasta arrived exactly on time, her stride purposeful, her scarred face set in an expression of grim focus. She carried a compact autogun slung across her back, a laspistol strapped to her thigh, and a belt of grenades hanging loosely at her hip. She looked as prepared as she could be, though the tension in her posture betrayed her thoughts.

  “Time to move,” Servius said flatly, his tail flicking behind him as he checked the straps on his rifle.

  “Right,” Adrasta replied, her tone equally clipped. “Westward route, like we planned. Let’s hope the Ebon Claws aren’t feeling ambitious tonight.”

  Servius didn’t reply, instead turning to the heavy airlock door. One of the guards stationed nearby—a gaunt man whose sunken eyes betrayed years of living on the edge—gave them a brief nod before disengaging the locks. The mechanisms groaned in protest, and the airlock hissed open, revealing the distorted expanse of the Warp beyond.

  The two stepped out into the abyss.

  The air was thick, suffused with the oppressive weight of the Immaterium. The ground beneath their boots was jagged and uneven, fractured by fissures that glowed faintly with molten light. The sky above churned with sickly colors—purples, yellows, and greens blending together in a nauseating swirl. The very atmosphere felt alive, pressing against their skin like an unseen hand.

  “Stay low,” Adrasta murmured as they crept forward, her sharp eyes scanning the terrain. “Patrols could be anywhere.”

  Servius followed in silence, his movements fluid and deliberate as he kept his rifle ready in one hand. His green eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, every flicker of movement drawing his attention. The Warp was treacherous, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down.

  The first valley they crossed was as Adrasta had described—shallow and unstable, with molten rock bubbling just beneath the surface. Each step had to be carefully placed to avoid the thin crust giving way beneath them. Servius could feel the heat radiating through his boots, a constant reminder of the hostile environment.

  Halfway across, Adrasta froze, raising a hand to signal Servius to stop. She crouched low, her eyes narrowing as she pointed toward a cluster of jagged rocks ahead. “See that?” she whispered.

  Servius followed her gaze, his sharp eyes catching the faintest glint of metal. A helmet, partially hidden among the rocks, its owner crouched low with a weapon in hand. An Ebon Claw patrol.

  “There’s three of them,” Adrasta continued, her voice barely audible. “One there, another to the left near that fissure, and a third...” Her eyes darted to the right, where a shadow moved briefly against the warped horizon. “...just beyond that ridge.”

  Servius’s tail flicked sharply as he assessed the situation. The patrol was spread out, their positioning methodical but not perfect. If they acted quickly, they could take them out before an alarm was raised.

  “Options?” Adrasta asked, glancing at him.

  “I’ll take the one near the fissure,” Servius said, his voice low and controlled. “You handle the ridge. Then we deal with the one by the rocks.”

  Adrasta nodded, her hand tightening around the grip of her autogun. “On your mark.”

  Servius crouched low, his movements silent as he approached the fissure. The molten light from the cracks illuminated the terrain in flickering hues, casting distorted shadows that danced with every step. The Ebon Claw soldier crouched near the fissure, his attention focused on the valley ahead. He was clad in makeshift armor adorned with crude Chaos markings, his autogun resting across his knees.

  Servius moved like a predator, his knife gleaming faintly in the dim light. He closed the distance quickly, his tail flicking sharply behind him as he pounced. The knife plunged into the soldier’s neck with precision, severing the artery in a single, fluid motion. The man gurgled faintly, his body convulsing as Servius lowered him silently to the ground.

  Across the valley, Adrasta moved with equal efficiency. She crept up the ridge, her steps measured and deliberate. The second soldier was leaning against a rock, his attention drawn to the horizon. He never saw her coming. The autogun’s suppressor barely made a sound as she fired, the round punching clean through his skull. He slumped forward, his body sliding down the ridge.

  Servius turned his attention to the final soldier near the rocks. The man had noticed something—perhaps the faint sound of Adrasta’s shot or the unnatural stillness that now hung over the valley. He rose to his feet, his autogun scanning the terrain as his eyes darted nervously.

  Before he could react, a bolt from Servius’s pistol tore through his chest, detonating on impact and sending a spray of blood and viscera into the air. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly beside him.

  Adrasta rejoined Servius moments later, her expression calm but tense. “That went smoother than I expected,” she said, her voice low. “But if they’re patrolling this valley, there’s bound to be more up ahead.”

  “There always is,” Servius replied, his tone cold and matter-of-fact. He holstered his pistol and turned his attention to the path ahead. The second valley loomed in the distance, its jagged ridges silhouetted against the warped sky. He could feel the oppressive weight of the fortress even from here, its presence pressing against his mind like a storm waiting to break.

  Adrasta followed his gaze, her scarred face set in a grim expression. “If we’re lucky, we’ll make it to the second valley without running into more of them.”

  Servius snorted softly, his tail flicking behind him. “Luck doesn’t last long in the Warp.”

  “No,” Adrasta agreed, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “It doesn’t.”

  The shadows thickened as Servius and Adrasta descended into the second valley. The air here felt heavier, charged with the unnatural energy of the Warp. Tendrils of mist clung to the jagged terrain, curling and twisting in the faint, flickering light of the molten fissures. Every step seemed to echo louder than it should have, the sound carrying unnervingly far in the oppressive silence.

  Servius kept low, his rifle gripped tightly in his claws as his sharp eyes scanned the valley ahead. Adrasta moved a few paces behind him, her autogun at the ready. They hadn’t seen any signs of movement yet, but the weight of the atmosphere told them they weren’t alone. The Ebon Claws were here—watching, waiting.

  “Stay sharp,” Adrasta whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the fissures. “This is their territory.”

  Servius didn’t respond. His ears swiveled toward a distant sound—a faint clatter of stone, almost imperceptible. He crouched lower, his tail flicking sharply as he signaled for Adrasta to stop. She froze immediately, her sharp gray eyes narrowing as she followed his gaze toward the source of the noise.

  There, on a ledge overlooking the valley, a pair of figures moved in the shadows. They were heavily armored, their jagged pauldrons and helmets adorned with cruel spikes and the blasphemous symbols of Chaos. Their movements were slow and deliberate, their bolters held at the ready as they scanned the terrain below.

  Traitor Astartes.

  Adrasta sucked in a sharp breath, her knuckles tightening around the grip of her autogun. She leaned closer to Servius, her voice barely more than a breath. “Two of them. Spotters.”

  Servius’s jaw tightened, his claws flexing against the stock of his rifle. The presence of Traitor Astartes complicated things. These weren’t the poorly trained cultists they’d dealt with in the first valley—these were hardened killers, warriors forged in the fires of the Horus Heresy and tempered by the madness of the Warp.

  “We can’t engage them,” Adrasta continued, her voice tense. “Not here. Not with just the two of us.”

  Servius nodded once, his green eyes narrowing as he calculated their next move. She was right. Even with his sniper rounds and plasma pistol, taking on two Chaos Marines head-on was suicide. They needed to slip past without being seen.

  “We’ll circle around,” he murmured, his voice as cold and sharp as the knife at his chest. “Keep low, stay in the shadows. If they spot us, we’re dead.”

  Adrasta didn’t argue. She nodded and followed Servius as he led the way, his movements fluid and silent as he navigated the treacherous terrain. They hugged the base of the valley’s ridges, keeping to the deeper shadows cast by the jagged rocks. The mist clung to them like a second skin, obscuring their forms as they crept closer to the fortress.

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  The Traitor Astartes remained on the ledge, their gazes sweeping the valley with the precision of predators. One of them shifted slightly, the faint clink of ceramite plates echoing through the air. Servius froze, his muscles coiling like springs as he pressed himself against the cold rock. Adrasta mirrored his movements, her breath shallow as she waited for the danger to pass.

  After a tense moment, the Chaos Marines turned their attention back to the other side of the valley. Servius exhaled silently, his sharp ears twitching as he signaled for Adrasta to move. They continued their careful approach, every step deliberate, every sound muffled by their practiced silence.

  The terrain grew more unstable as they neared the center of the valley. The fissures widened, their molten light casting eerie, flickering patterns across the rocks. The air was hotter here, the stench of sulfur and ash nearly overwhelming. Servius’s sharp eyes caught movement ahead—another patrol, this one made up of three cultists armed with autoguns.

  “They’re spread out,” Adrasta whispered, her voice tight. “We can take them, but it has to be clean.”

  Servius nodded, his gaze flicking between the cultists as he assessed their positions. Two of them were close together, their attention focused on the path ahead, while the third lingered near the edge of a fissure, his weapon held loosely at his side.

  “I’ll take the two,” Servius murmured. “You handle the one by the fissure.”

  Adrasta didn’t hesitate. She slipped away into the shadows, her movements silent as she circled toward her target. Servius watched her go before shifting his attention to the two cultists nearest to him. Their weapons hung loosely at their sides, their postures relaxed as though they believed themselves untouchable in this cursed valley.

  Amateurs.

  Servius moved like a wraith, his claws barely brushing the ground as he closed the distance. The first cultist didn’t even realize he was there until it was far too late. Servius’s knife flashed in the dim light of the fissures, slicing cleanly across the man’s throat. Blood sprayed in an arc, and the cultist crumpled to the ground, his gurgling death cry muffled by the wet rasp of his severed windpipe.

  The second cultist turned, his eyes widening in alarm as he opened his mouth to shout—but the knife was already leaving Servius’s hand. The blade buried itself in the man’s chest with a dull, meaty thunk, piercing his heart before he could so much as draw breath. His body jerked once before collapsing in a heap.

  Adrasta struck at the same moment, her autogun held tightly against her shoulder as she fired a single, silenced round. The bullet punched through the skull of the third cultist, who stood near the edge of the fissure. His body wavered for a brief moment before pitching forward into the molten depths below, disappearing with a faint hiss of vaporized flesh.

  Servius darted forward, yanking his knife free from the fallen cultist’s chest in a single, fluid motion. Corrupted and fetid blood clung to the blade, and he wiped it clean on the dead man’s tattered cloak before slipping it back into its sheath.

  The valley was silent once more.

  Adrasta rejoined him moments later, her expression grim but approving. “Clean,” she muttered under her breath. “You’ve done this before.”

  “Plenty of times,” Servius replied flatly, his green eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. “No alarms. No reinforcements. We’re clear.”

  Adrasta crouched next to one of the fallen cultists, her sharp gray eyes narrowing as she inspected his gear. “Nothing special,” she said, flipping the body over with a quick shove. “Cheap autoguns, no comms. These are just fodder.”

  “Fodder’s easier to kill,” Servius muttered, his tone cold and detached. He turned his gaze toward the distant ledge where the Chaos Marines still stood, their forms barely visible against the haze of the valley. They hadn’t moved, and their posture suggested they hadn’t noticed the quick, silent executions that had just taken place.

  Adrasta glanced toward the distant fortress, its black spires barely visible through the Warp’s haze. “We’re getting close. Once we cross the valley, we’ll be in their backyard.”

  Servius’s tail flicked sharply behind him. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

  They moved forward, the fortress looming ever larger as they pressed on. The air grew heavier, the whispers of the Warp growing louder in their ears. Servius could feel the Nexus’s threads stirring faintly within him, a subtle reminder of the power he carried—and the cost it demanded.

  The oppressive heat of the fissures and the choking weight of the Warp thickened as Servius and Adrasta pressed deeper into the second valley. Every step was a calculated risk, every shadow a potential threat. The black spires of the fortress were now visible even through the distorted haze, their jagged forms radiating malice. It wasn’t just the architecture; the structure itself seemed to exude the Warp’s chaotic essence, twisting the light and bending the air around it.

  The voices of the Warp grew louder in Servius’s mind, faint whispers that teased at the edge of comprehension. He shut them out with an effort of will, focusing instead on the path ahead. Adrasta moved just behind him, her autogun at the ready, her scarred face set in grim determination.

  They were closing in on the fortress’s perimeter now. The valley’s terrain grew more treacherous, with wide fissures cutting through the ground and jagged ridges forcing them to climb and descend repeatedly. The molten light of the fissures reflected off their weapons and armor, casting their movements in eerie, flickering shadows.

  “Spot anything?” Adrasta murmured, her voice barely audible.

  Servius shook his head, his green eyes scanning the ridge above them. “Not yet. But it’s quiet. Too quiet.”

  Adrasta grunted in agreement, her sharp gray eyes flicking toward the ridges. “If there’s a sentry post up there, we’re walking into their sightlines.”

  “We’ll move under the overhangs,” Servius replied, gesturing toward the cliffs that jutted out over parts of the valley. “Keep low and stick to the shadows.”

  Adrasta nodded, following his lead as they veered closer to the rocky cliffs. The overhangs provided partial cover from above, their jagged formations creating pockets of darkness where the molten glow of the fissures couldn’t reach. It wasn’t much, but it was better than being fully exposed in the open valley.

  The climb was slow and arduous, their movements deliberately quiet as they navigated the uneven ground. Adrasta stopped occasionally to scan the terrain with her autogun raised, her scarred fingers steady on the trigger. Servius, meanwhile, moved with the practiced grace of a predator, his every motion fluid and precise.

  As they rounded a corner, Servius froze, his ears swiveling forward. A faint sound reached him—a low, rhythmic thudding, like the heavy tread of armored boots on stone. He signaled for Adrasta to stop, his tail flicking sharply behind him as he crouched low.

  She moved up beside him, her expression tense. “What is it?”

  “Patrol,” Servius said quietly, his green eyes narrowing as he scanned the path ahead. “Four of them, maybe five. Heavily armed.”

  Adrasta frowned, her grip tightening on her weapon. “Can we take them?”

  Servius considered the question carefully, his mind racing through the possibilities. The terrain was too open to avoid detection completely, but they might be able to use it to their advantage. “Depends on how we play it,” he said finally. “If we hit them fast, before they can spread out, we stand a chance.”

  Adrasta nodded grimly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  The thudding grew louder, more distinct. Servius peered around the corner of a jagged outcropping, his sharp eyes catching the first glimpse of the patrol. Four figures marched in formation, their armor a patchwork of ceramite and scavenged plating adorned with the blasphemous sigils of Chaos. Two carried heavy autoguns, while the others were armed with brutal melee weapons—chainswords that purred menacingly as they moved.

  Servius’s ears flattened against his head. These weren’t mere cultists; they were hardened killers, warriors shaped by the Warp’s cruelty. He glanced at Adrasta, who met his gaze with a curt nod. They didn’t have the luxury of hesitation.

  He raised a clawed hand, signaling the plan with quick, deliberate gestures. Adrasta would take the high ground along the ridge to flank the patrol, while Servius would engage them head-on to draw their attention. It was risky, but it was the best chance they had to eliminate the group quickly and quietly.

  Adrasta slipped away, her movements nearly silent as she scaled the ridge. Servius waited until she was in position, his sharp ears catching the faint rustle of her steps as she moved into place. When she gave a subtle signal—a flash of light reflected off her weapon—he moved.

  Servius stepped out from the shadows, his plasma pistol already drawn. The lead warrior spotted him immediately, his twisted face contorting into a snarl as he raised his autogun. But Servius was faster. The plasma pistol hissed as it fired, a bolt of searing blue energy lancing through the air and striking the lead warrior square in the chest. The impact burned through his armor, dropping him instantly.

  The remaining three reacted with surprising speed, their weapons coming to bear as they spread out to flank him. Servius darted to the side, his plasma pistol firing again. A second warrior went down, his chainsword falling from his grip as the plasma bolt burned through his midsection.

  Above, Adrasta opened fire. Her autogun barked softly, the silencer muffling the sharp cracks of her shots as she targeted the warrior furthest from Servius. The first round struck the man in the neck, and he collapsed in a spray of blood before he could fire his weapon.

  The final warrior charged Servius, his chainsword roaring to life as he closed the distance. Servius holstered his plasma pistol and drew his knife in one fluid motion, his green eyes narrowing as he braced for the attack. The warrior swung wide, the teeth of his chainsword screaming as they bit into empty air.

  Servius stepped inside the man’s guard, his movements impossibly fast. His knife flashed in the dim light, plunging into the gap between the warrior’s helmet and chest plate. The blade sank deep, severing arteries and cutting off the man’s pained roar. Servius twisted the knife and pulled it free, letting the body collapse at his feet.

  Adrasta slid down from the ridge, her boots skidding slightly on the loose rock. She glanced at the fallen warriors, her expression grim but approving. “Not bad,” she said, her voice low. “You made it look easy.”

  “It wasn’t,” Servius replied flatly, wiping his knife clean on the fallen warrior’s cloak before sheathing it. “They were sloppy, but that doesn’t mean the next group will be.”

  Adrasta nodded, her gaze shifting toward the distant fortress. The spires loomed larger now, their jagged forms cutting into the distorted sky like the teeth of some great, cosmic predator. “We’re close,” she said. “If they didn’t hear that, they’ll definitely notice us when we get inside.”

  Servius’s tail flicked sharply behind him as he scanned the horizon. “Then we’d better move before they have time to regroup.”

  They pressed on, the fortress now so close that the air around it seemed to vibrate with its oppressive presence. Servius could feel the Nexus threads stirring within him again, faint whispers brushing against the edges of his mind. The Warp’s power was everywhere here, seeping into the ground, the air, the very stones of the fortress itself.

  And they were walking straight into it.

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